Bein' Friends
by SaturnStorm
Summary: Mother series. A young boy reflects on the life he's living -- in-game happening.


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DISCLAIMER: I do not own the EarthBound/Mother series and for once I don't own ANY of the characters in this story. How spiffing!  
  
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Authors notes: This is just a short little Mother game snippet, but I hope you like!  
  
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Bein' Friends  
  
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~SaturnStorm  
  
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When one sits in an enclosed area, hiding from bullies, hugging their knees and vainly trying to focus in the pitch black, they find themselves with a lot of time to think. To not think would mean that person would have bullies on their mind, and such thoughts would wrap them in fear and eat them from the inside out until they couldn't think of anything else if they tried and would go totally insane. Said one hugging knees didn't want thatand found a lot of other things to think about... even if they weren't any less horrible.  
  
He had the vaguest memories of his parents, for instance. Both of them had left him at a young age, and he was forced to live with his aunt who couldn't have her own kids, and wasn't entirely sure how to raise one. His father had never looked upon him with a smile, instead only showing regret at the child's existance. He moved away. His mother, however, was different, and would always smile and hug him and be proud of him for who he was. She had died unexpectedly. His new mother and father left him to his own devices, letting him roam around and do as he liked, because they believed that was the best way to raise children. The boy snorted. If they had any idea...  
  
... Would they use them? True they weren't the smartest fish in the barrel, but at the same time they always let on that they knew a lot less than they really seemed to. Maybe they really did know how to raise kids... they just didn't think they could, so didn't try. And that wasn't right.  
  
He knew what he wanted. He wanted people to be proud of him and to smile at him and to cuddle him and treat him like he actually meant something. He wanted, just once, for someone to say "I'm proud of you." But he knew it wasn't going to happen. Those that cared for him were far beyond his reach, and there was nothing he could do about it. It didn't seem fair. But then, what was? After all, he was here because people hated him for knowing things, and that wasn't fair.  
  
For as long as he could remember, he was a curious child. Always had been. It was in his veins. He had been told once that he had learned to read long before his first birthday, and had learned how to stand and walk before then, so he could independantly look at things. He was always looking through books and papers and magazines. He had been told that made him special. The very first book he had read was Roal Dahl's Matilda, he remembered that. It had fascinated him that someone so small could be someone so big and amazing. It always made him feel he could be something one day. Someone big. And maybe he'd even learn to be psychic, just like her.  
  
But the dream had died. All being smart had ever gotten him was teasing and bullying and a great deal of abuse, because it made him weird, just like the rest of him. Silver hair wasn't normal. Not on a ten-year-old. Until he reached school he had always thought it made him special. Someone interesting. Someone who would DO something one day. All it ever did was get him laughed at. It made everyone think he was a freak. Some know-it-all geek.  
  
It just wasn't fair.  
  
Click-click! Clunk!  
  
The boy tensed. That was the sound of the roof door opening. Someone was coming up. He paled. He could almost feel the hands grabbing him, pinning him, hurting him. He could hear the laughter echoing in his ears. He curled up tight and wished that person to go away, to leave him in peace....  
  
It was a few seconds before the door actually opened. No yelling, no laughing, no cursing. As he strained his ears, he discovered that there was also no sneaking, nor whispering. In fact, there were very few sounds at all! Hidden by the songs of birds was the rustle of a solitary person walking around. A person who was amazed at what he saw. Someone was actually enjoying the view and paying his hiding place no heed.  
  
"Oh, wow." The person breathed.  
  
From that, the boy deducted that the person was a very unfamiliar male. He had a very light and positive voice, like someone from a happy life. Someone normal, if normal existed. And he didn't see many high views, apparently. The male was whispering further awe, struck by the beauty of the land around.  
  
Then the tone changed. "Hey! There's a rock on the tracks!"  
  
The hiding boy knew this. That morning he had heard reports of a freak landslide blocking the tracks to the station. There was no apparent cause, and the formation left the track underneath intact. It was very strange. But it could be easily remedied. He had collected a bottle-rocket to try and dislodge it, but it didn't have enough power. He knew just what would do the trick: the new rocket they were working on at Duncan's Factory. It, too, had a freak accident of some kind that morning, however, and all the workers had left. None said why. It sounded like one big conspiracy to him. But then, nobody asked his opinion.  
  
He heard the boy remove something from his pocket. A few seconds after he sighed. The person seemed to be in a real dilemmaand was havng quite a time coming up with a solution to remedy it. The heavy exhale had the weight of the World upon it. He wished that maybe there was something he could do--  
  
"..?" There was the sound of a quick rustle -- someone turning sharply. The hidden boy froze, his gut lurching. He had been spotted, he knew it. A slight rustle... again... again... he was moving. He was moving slowly toward the hiding place. Still blind to his surroundings, he tried to see, to search, before curling tighter than before and refusing to let go.  
  
"...Loid?" The male asked, "Is... Is that Loid?"  
  
"I'm not coming out!" The hidden one cried out, now absolutely certain of being spotted. He added under his breath "everyone will just pick on me..."  
  
The male now sounded certain of who he was talking to. "That IS Loid, isn't it?" The boy said again, knocking on the hiding place. "It's okay, I don't want to hurt you. I want to be friends!"  
  
Friends. Now that was an alien term. Friends were for other people, and people in stories. Nobody ever wanted to be friends with him, he was just... Loid. A geek. A freak. Someome to laugh at to feel better. Someone to hit if you're upset. The punching bag for the soul, because he didn't matter. Friends, huh. Nobody made friends with Loid.  
  
"Please?..." The boy pleaded, sounding sincere. It was strange, but he sounded like he really did want to make friends. It was as if not making friends was just preposterous! Not being friends was just wrong and it couldn't happen. And Loid couldn't help but feel... he was right. Not being friends didn't feel like an option.  
  
"Y-you really want to be... friends... with me?" Loid uncurled, looking up. This seemed unreal.  
  
The boy outside took a step back. "Yes, I do. Can we be friends?"  
  
Loid considered this. He had nothing to lose, really. Everyone hated him anyway. "O-okay, I'm coming out, now."  
  
He pushed up at the opening, standing up, squinting against the light and looking rather embarrassed... then climbed out of the trash can.  
  
~~Owari  
  
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Authors Notes 2: I remember writing this at a train station, waiting for my train to arrive to take me back to my hometown for a day. I got bored and started writing, but because it was an approaching winter, my fingers got numb while I was writing. I still have the gloves I bought when my train finally did arrive. I found it again recently, and decided to write it to computer (as you do!). And then I thought, "hey, not like I can carry this on or anything!" so... yeah!  
  
Look out for 'swapsies', that will be surreal. 


End file.
